Stained in Blood
by peanut0565
Summary: AU to Season 2 Episode 4 "Honey", It all happened so fast... No, I don't own Lie to Me. :
1. Too Late

"I'm sorry about that, I mean it. Let's get the cops in now and I'll tell them you didn't do that."

"No, Zancanelly is the one who did it we all know that, I want five minute alone with him."

"No I can't do that." Smack to the side of head with gun.

"Its either you or him, I mean it." Nod.

Push into empty room.

"After all the headaches you put conny through."

"Shut up!"

"After all the headaches you put her through after hardwork she spent trying to make you feel like a man. There is one way to honor her."

"And I bet you'll tell me what it is."

"Live your life! Live your life! If you take your revenge out on her, you will be the fool that she spent her entire adult life trying to convince people you weren't."

"I have no life without her. You ready?"

"I want Zancanelly!"

"We gotta give him what he wants."

"Just march Zancanelly in there, Welcome to the one thing I won't do today!"

"I've got an idea."

"NO!"

------

It was like all the air rushed out of him at once, leaving him breathless and in the daze. The impact of the bullet sent him sideways, his head connecting with the floor in the same area where he had been hit before. His eyes wide in a state of shock, his mouth was open but he couldn't inhale, and pain was spirally out starting from his side.

Instinctively his hand went to the wound, pressing on it with shaky fingers, unaware of what was going on around him, as he tried to get a hold of himself, to breath, and figure out what was going on.

"Come on..." He felt hands underneath his arm pits, lifting him up onto his feet, but his legs wouldn't hold him. He gasped, it quickly turned into a choke as he felt a copper tasting liquid rise into his mouth onto his tongue.

Who ever it was dragging him, a white room went to blue. Somewhere in his mind rationalized that it was Matheson moving him not so gently, but most of the coherent parts of his mental process were being blocked by the pain and the odd sensation that made it feel like he was drowning.

"whats the code...come on, whats the code?" Matheson asked him. Talking wasn't really an option at the moment as he tried to focus his eyes on the keypad, willing his hand to go to it and punch in the numbers.

The buzz of the door opening, and being dragged backwards brought him back from the floating state of darkness that was threatening to take hold, if for just a brief minute. Matheson was holding him by the neck, keeping him upright, he heard other voices but now he couldn't make sense of them, he was fading fast.

He started coughing, he could feel the blood from his mouth splattering over his lips and nose, dripping from his lips down his chin and throat. Breathing was becoming a chore as the seconds past by. He focused on that primarily and not paying to close of attention to what was going on around him, his eyes were closed by their own will anyways.

Still coughing hoarsely, he felt the arm that was supporting his weight drop, he was in a free fall for a second before two arms wrapped around his back supporting him again, his chin fell upon a small bony shoulder, causing him to bite his tongue slightly.

"Easy now..." A female voice trembled, as he felt himself being lowered to the ground, the hoarse choking sounds still continuing as he tried to take even a half decent breath, his strength was dwindling.

"Cal, open your eyes for me, Please. Cal." The feminine voice was filled with fear and worry. He tried to corporate with the voices' request, but his eyelids felt like a ton.

"Please, don't do this. Cal!" She shrilled. This high pitch tone revitalized him just for a moment giving him enough strength to open his eyes a little, to see a blurry Foster, who looked like she was crying, her eyes speaking volumes of the fear she was feeling right now.

"Just Hang on..." His breath hitched, summoning the little strength to pull his arm up, his index finger reaching her cheek, caressing it once fondly, before darkness came, and the weight of the universe crushed him into the oblivion of darkness, where the pain ceased to exist.

TBC


	2. Shock

Author's Note: Thank you Santoryuu-Zoro, RedHotLover, Tini, Laheara, and thatonegirl005 for the reviews. Yes, I agree with many of you, I was waiting for someone to take this angle, and when it didn't happen, I got impatient and decided to write it myself.

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Emotions have a funny way of playing with ones' perception of time. The moment the gun fired, and she saw him slam to the ground seemed to be frozen in time, imprinted on her psyche forever. Everyone gasped as they watched their fallen leader sprawled helplessly on the ground as a small pool of blood began to form on the floor beneath him as he tried futily to stop it with one hand.

"We need to get in there. Loker call the police now." Reynolds spoke, breaking the eternal silence and speeding time up to warp speed. The younger man was shaken from his stupor to quickly exit the room with Reynolds to find a phone.

She stared blankly at the screen for a few moments longer before realizing she was alone in the room. She didn't want to be alone right now, especially with that video feed on. She moved through the door and found herself following Reynolds.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her tone betraying her fear, worry, and dread of the situation.

"I'm getting Zancanelly." He said, not looking at her face but moving with determination to get the man who had killed Matthesons' wife.

"Now you listen to me." She snapped in misplaced anger. He didn't reply, just simply took the other man roughly by the cops and pushed him to the door that stood between them and their dying leader.

"We have Zancanelly, let us in!" Reynolds shouted through the glass door.

Mattheson appeared a minute later, holding the barely concious Cal by the neck with his arm, still pointing his gun at Cal's neck.

"Please just let him go." Foster cried at the sight of her friend, having a hypersensitivity to the sight of his blood soaking his shirt and coat, as well as the thin layer that was now covering his lips, and he was spitting out as he continued to cough hoarsely.

"Move away from Zancanelly!" Matheson yelled at Reynolds, who obediently stepped to the side with little hesitation.

"I want to see the look in your eye, the look my wife had when you killed her!" He glared at Zancanelly, a glare with the intent to kill without hesitation.

"You're wife wanted to me to tell you something..." Zancanelly started fearfully.

"TELL ME!" Matheson moved his gun to fire at Zancanelly when another shot was fired. Matheson cried out and let go of Cal to fall to the ground, gripping his leg in agony.

Foster subconciously moved forward before Cal ended up on the floor in a heap like a puppet whos' strings had been cut. She wrapped her arms around him as his chin and head ended in resting in the crook of her neck kind of on her shoulder.

"Easy now..." She whispered into his ear as she carefully lowered him to the floor, letting his knees buckle naturally, so he wasn't in an ackward position as he laid down. She could hear him choking on his own blood, it was a sickening sound.

"Cal, open your eyes for me, Please. Cal." She pleaded with him, somewhere in the background she heard Lokers' voice telling them that the ambulence and police would be there in 3 minutes, but all she could focus on was the fact that Cal was fluttering his eye lids, making an honest attempt to do as she asked. She put one hand on his wound, pressing on it in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding while at the same time, begging Cal not to die.

If it was the pressure on his wound and the sudden spike of pain or her words that got him to open his eyes for the briefest of moments she would never know, but seeing the glazed over hazel eyes filled with so much pain was as much of a relief as an anguish. The once sharp piercing look he had constantly when speaking with one of his clients or anyone else for that matter was gone.

"Just hang on..." She told him. He gasped painfully, as she watched his face primarily as his blood-stained hand rose to her face, the tip of his index finger running softly along her cheek, leaving a dried bloody trail in its wake. He got to the edge of her jawline til his hand went limp with the rest of his body, and his eyes rolled up to the back of his head and the eyelids closed, allowing his face to tilt to the side so it was resting on the floor.

"No, no no no, Cal, please, no." She whispered, her hand quickly moving to the side of his neck, hunting feverishly for a pulse. He definitly wasn't breathing anymore, and with that his pulse would be gone soon too if not already. With her shaky hands she was unable to locate the pulse before Reynolds pulled her away so the EMTs could get him into the ambulence.

At that time she hadn't been aware of the fact that where she was kneeling now was covered in a small pool of blood, as well as the smear of blood on the front of her knees, on her cheek, and on the one hand. She was a royal mess, mentally and physically, being covered in Cal's blood.

"He can't die." She said quietly as she watched them load Cal onto the stretcher, looking more lifeless on the white sheets then ever. She wanted to go with them, but Reynolds was holding her back with his hands on her shoulders. She continued her silent mantra until Cal was completely out of sight as well as the EMTs, shock overtaking her.

"Let's get you cleaned up, and then we'll head down to the hospital." Reynolds said as he manuvered himself to be infront of Foster, who was still staring at the spot where Cal had been laying not two minutes before hand.

"Come on, Gillian." The use of her first name shook her from her reverie for merely a moment before she noticed she was a mess. She shook her head in a shocked manner before shakily moving past Loker who was almost in the same state as her. Reynolds was the calmest one of them all, but they all knew that was just a front, because one of them had to be strong.

"I'll take you home so you can change, then we can head over to the hospital." Reynolds told her as he guided her to his car. She wasn't totally there, but was following him easily enough. He could see that she was focused on the blood on her hand, with a look of almost pure horror and concern on her face.

He always knew she had feelings for the boss, but he didn't know the extent of them until now. She was running on automatic, her psyche was with Cal right now, pleading with whatever higher existance that determines life and death on this world to not take her beloved boss and friend before she had the chance to tell him how she really felt about him, and needing to know if he felt the same way about her.

The fact that Reynolds drove her home, and waited while she showered and changed into new clothing did not phase her state of mind at all. As soon as she was out of the shower, dressed, and blood-free, she immediatly threw the cloths she had been wearing in the trash and expectantly followed Reynolds into the car and he took her to the hospital where they had brought Cal.

Upon arriving at the waiting room she found familiar faces; Torres, Loker, Zoe, Emily. In a small portion of her mind the question of who called Zoe popped into mind, as well as a few random answer, Loker or Torres would be the most obvious answer, that or Zoe was still his emergency contact, which was also incredibly likely.

She found herself walking towards Zoe and Emily, too wrapped up in her own emotions to even see what expression was on their faces, probably that of extreme concern.

"How are things?" She asked hesistantly, not trusting her own voice.

"They were able to stablize him in the ER, and they immediatly took him up to OR. We were waiting for you to arrive before we moved up to the OR's waiting room on floor two." Zoe answered, Emily clinging to her side, trying to stop herself from crying.

Foster then glanced at the time, realizing in an almost cold fashion that it took her two hours to go from the office to her house to clean up and change to the hospital. Though it didn't suprise her all that much, she did let her walls down momentarily in the shower, curling up on the floor and sobbing almost hysterically. She was almost suprised that Reynolds hadn't knocked on the door to ask if she was alright.

"Alright, let's go up there." She commanded the group with a voice that barely concealed her fragile mental state.

TBC


	3. Eight Weeks Gone

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews; Edwina B. Karch, Fostergirl147, Gracie1001, stacey3088, and anonynmouse person. I love you guys for reading, you're keeping me going, and all that jazz.

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The first sensation that broke through the heavy fog was the feeling of something lodged down his throat. He then became aware of something attached to his right hand, that was even more evident when he gingerly twitched a finger or two.

He opened his eyes to darkness. After a few moments details began to form, he was on his back in a room that had no lights on. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he noticed a thin light blue blanket covering his body from mid chest down, as well was having gaused wrapped tightly around his chest, as well as his left arm securely attached to his chest.

He then tried to lift his right arm up, it felt like a ton of bricks, but he was able to see that his right hand was also bandaged, from his pinky to the side of his hand down to his wrist. He also saw a tube attached to a needle in his skin. As further and further of this room became more than a blur, he discovered bedrails, two machines on each side of the bed, and a pole with one clear bag and one red one.

The first sensation came back to him as he saw the tube taped to his mouth going in leading to one of the machines. He wanted it out but since he was alone in the room, he couldn't exactly get anyone to take it out, meaning he was stuck.

The memories of the events were delayed until that very moment in time, and in that moment of time they all fled back at once. The sudden surge of information was overwhelming enough for his right hand to instinctively grab his head at the hairline, where he discovered another wound at the edge of his hairline, also bandaged. He cursed inwardly at the flair up of pain through the fog on his external sensations as the memories disoriented him enough for the beeping to get faster.

This brought in some movement in the room that was not from him, the lights flicked on and immediatly his hand dropped down to his eyes for protection, followed instantiously by as much of a flinch as he could manage with his current state, and enough to cause stabbing pain strike up and down his side, feeling the stitchs tear.

"Easy now, Dr. Lightman." He felt a hand on his right forearm, forcefully but gently bringing it down away from his eyes. If he could talk right now he'd be swearing a storm up, and snapping at the offender who turned the lights on.

"Can you open your eyes for me, sir?" The female voice asked kindly, her voice sweet enough that it was adding to his frustration at the vulnerable state that he was in right now. After a moment he finally did what she asked, flinching momentarily again at the brightness of the unnatural light.

He finally saw the girl for the first time in pink scrubs, and brown hair. His mind was too fuzzy to take in the details he usually could, and at the moment he didn't really care that much. He wanted to know the time and date and all the nitty-gritty stuff that put him in this particular bed at the current moment. His hand loosely gripped the tube taped to his mouth, tugging at it weakly.

"No, We can't take that out just yet. It's late, and you're doctors' gone home for the night. You're going to have to wake until morning to see about the tube." She explained, while taking his blood pressure and pulse, whatever they do on their rounds with patients.

He glared at her, as she marked something on his chart and went to leave. "G'night Dr. Lightman." She said, flipping off the lights as she left. He started to feel tired just then, somewhere in the back of his mind registered the fact that the nurse probably slipped him a sedative to sleep, but he was asleep before it fully registered in his concious mind.

------

"Dr. Lightman?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Can you open your eyes for me?" He must have shrugged a little in defiance, as if to say "No, leave me alone."

"Come on, you've already been out for 8 weeks, time to wake up." That startling news was enough to make his mind tell his eyes to open as wide as they possibly could in sheer shock of the news.

As soon as his eyelids flew open a pen light assaulted them, and he flinched and turned his head away as much as he could with the tube in his mouth, as his right hand batted at the pen light futilely.

"Pupils equal and reactive." The offender said to themselves, a male. After a moment to recover from the last assault he opened his eyes once more, more slowly this time, focusing on the male infront of him in a white lab coat.

"Welcome back to the world of the Living." He said cheerfully, checking on his vitals and the bandages. Cal glared at him furiously. His one mobile hand reaching for the tube once again to request it be taken out, well more like demand with the tugging on it. He felt so weak.

"Since you're awake now, we can take it out now." The anonymous doctor answered the non-verbal request.

"Now I need you to blow as hard as you can when I say 'Go'." The doctor was talking to him as if he were a child, but as long as the tube was removed, he didn't care.

"Alright, 'Go'." Cal did as he was instructed, choking as the tube snaked its way out of his mouth, leaving a horrible after taste and feeling. He was left gasping hoarsely, taking his first breath on his own since he had been shot.

"...8 weeks?" He whispered hoarsely, going as loud as he could without too much agitation to his sore throat.

"Don't try to talk yet. But yes, You've been in a coma 8 weeks since yesterday. Today is Friday, and that lady friend of your's should be here shortly, So I'll tell you the details of your condition before she gets here." The doctor continued.

"By the way, I'm Dr. Robbins." He finally introduced himself, Cal could care less at the current moment. "You were brought in with a gunshot wound to the side and a head wound. You had lost a fair ammount of blood before arriving in the ER, and your heart had stopped for two minutes. We were able to bring you back, and get you stable enough to bring you up to the OR for immediate surgery to repair the damage from the bullet wound. That bullet had fractured two of your ribs, poked a whole through both lungs, clipping your heart in the process, and it ended up lodged into your left shoulderblade near your shoulder. We were able to repair the damage, but during your surgery you went into cardiac arrest two more times before we were able to finish, and that was part of the reason why you slipped into a coma after that. The other part of that was that the head wound was a small hairline fracture in your skull. In other words, We weren't expecting you to wake up."

That was alot of information to take in, in the course of five minutes.

"But you obviously proved us wrong." He continued after a moment cheerfully. At that moment the door opened, and he saw her.

"Oh my god, Cal." Her eyes were watering the moment he turned his head to look at her.

"Gillian."

TBC


End file.
